


Promise

by andstarswillscream



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/pseuds/andstarswillscream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cyclonus made his move, stepping forward, his claws at Whirl’s throat, grazing the plating ever so lightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

The two had captured each other in a duel. Simple sparring, no grievous injuries allowed, first one on the ground loses. They’d cleared room in one of the empty lounging areas. Some watched from the doorway, faces Whirl didn’t bother to remember. The two had forgone weapons of any sort, which was no real loss, who the hell brought a sword to a gun fight anyways? Whirl was much better using something to aim and fire with. Swords were okay, he supposed, but guns… the very name had a sort of absolution to it.

Quick and painless, a promise. Swords sounded like less of a guarantee, at least to him.

Cyclonus made his move, stepping forward, his claws at Whirl’s throat, grazing the plating ever so lightly. Whirl’s optic narrowed at the intimidation, a line of yellow in its housing, remnants of a face long gone.

As if there was enough of the original shape and material to truly call it remnant. 

The jet was light on his feet, not that it was anything new, but Whirl was certainly grateful to have an even match, hand to hand— er… _claw_. Speaking of claws, Whirl caught Cyclonus’ hand within his, roughly yanking him forward until Whirl’s mounted chest guns tapped against the jet’s chest plate, lone optic curling into a sly wane. The old warrior hissed, grin spilling onto his lips as he used his free hand to clasp around one of the guns, forcing the guns away from his chest and twisting Whirl’s waist, and proceeding to slam his shoulder into the helicopter to knock him off balance. 

Whirl let go, stumbling back as Cyclonus came at him again. The old warrior however, was a klick too late, as Whirl had found his footing, dodging a punch to the head, crouching low and wrapping his arms around Cyclonus' waist, lifting the other off the ground and over his shoulder, depositing the purple mech on the floor behind him with a resonant clank. 

The spindly blue mech turned around, crouching not far from Cyclonus' head, tapping the other on the nose with his clawtip, synthesized voice cheery.

"So.... what was all that about owing me a drink?"


End file.
